


Ivar Oneshots

by chibisgotovalhalla



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Who Knows?, might be:, one shots, read each description to find out what applies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibisgotovalhalla/pseuds/chibisgotovalhalla
Summary: This is where I'll post all my Ivar oneshots, each chapter will be one short piece of writing and its title is the title of the story. See story summary in author notes on each section.
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Reader, Ívar beinlausi Ragnarsson | Ivar the Boneless/Reader
Kudos: 24





	1. Ivar's Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Reader wakes up from a nightmare and soft!Ivar comforts her. Features Pregnant!Reader. This was a tumblr request.

_You did not know what was real and what was not._

_They came at you, horrible things with faces like monsters and claws like beasts. You ran, but no matter how fast you went they stayed at your heel. The night, dreadful and dark, was full of dangerous things. Howling, like a wolf’s, came from both sides of the path, littered with sticks and stones. All manner of things you might fall and break your ankle on. If you fell, the monsters who gave pursuit would rip you to shreds._

_In the distance were lights. Light meant safety from the monsters. Only the closer you got the more detail you made out: A Saxon church, a huge one. The lights were burning crosses and in the graveyard they had a pyre going, ready to burn a heathen witch, like you._

_Then out of the dark, hands reached and grabbed at you, pushing you down to your doom…_

You awoke with a scream. The grabbing hands from your dream now pushed you down onto your bed.

‘Elska min! Hush, hush. I am not trying to hurt you. Hush.’

It was the voice that brought you back to reality. Smooth as expensive silk, masterful but not sharp.

‘Ivar!’

‘I’m here… I’m here…’

Ivar scooped you and cradled you to his chest. You felt safe nestled against his broad chest, encircled by his thick, muscular arms. Your heart pounded so hard that you could hear the blood coursing past your ears. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath.

‘What has happened, elska min? What is wrong?’

Sweat beaded your skin all over. You must have thrown the blanket off thrashing in your sleep, and now your arms and chest pimpled with the cold. Ivar pulled the blanket around your shoulders, swaddling you to him. It was the security you craved as you trembled in his arms.

‘They were coming for me.’

‘Who were coming for you?’ Ivar asked, his voice pinched protectively. You didn’t need to look up at him to know that his face had settled into a scowl.

‘The monsters.’

‘Monsters?’

‘Yes. Big black shadowy things with teeth and claws. I was running away from them but they kept chasing me, and it was night, and I thought I was going to fall.’

‘That sounds terrifying.’ There was disbelief in his voice. You got the idea that Ivar never had scary dreams like this.

‘It gets worse.’

‘Worse than being chased by shadow monsters who have claws?’ Amusement punctuated his voice.

You smacked him in the chest and sat up, careful not to jostle his legs. When you looked into his eyes, they shone orange from the nearby candle.

‘Christians made a fire and they were going to burn me for being a heathen. And they had all these crosses. Like, a whole army of priests with burning crosses. And they were waiting for the monsters to chase me over there so they could kill me.’

Ivar blinked, unable to make sense of the garbled story. He looked at you blankly for several long seconds. ‘An army of priests with burning crosses?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, perhaps they were on fire because I’d already seen to them.’

Teeth gritted in your mouth. ‘This. Is not. Funny!’

‘No, it’s very serious. If the Christians think they can send monsters after the woman I love and have a fire ready to burn her alive, then me and the Christens have a problem.’

‘You and the Christians have always had a problem.’

‘Well,’ he said, sitting up proud and looking smug. ‘Their problem just got a whole lot bigger. It looks like when I leave for England next week I’m going to have to stay a little longer.’

‘Why? You said you would be back by winter!’

‘Well, elska min, it’s going to take me a bit longer than that to travel across the whole country and slaughter every single priest, and burn down every single church.’

You smiled. The adrenaline rush from your nightmare gave way to the urge to sleep again. You wriggled down and nuzzled back into Ivar’s chest, his strong arms encircled you once more. ‘You had better be back by winter.’

‘Or what? Do you dare to threaten Ivar the Boneless?’ His voice was thick with humour.

‘Or I will have to go around Kattegat telling everyone what a big softie you are.’

‘Well, I had better get myself a faster horse then, because England is a very big place.’

‘A place that you will take me to one day.’

‘Hmmm, one day. When you are not carrying my child.’ Ivar reached down to pull his legs up on to the bed. He then reclined with you on his chest. You wanted to say something sarcastic about him treating you like you weren’t one of the most famous shieldmaidens to live since Lagertha. But the sound of his heart under your head, the warmth and security of his arms only lulled you back to sleep.


	2. One Condition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a tumblr request, and takes part in the moments before your wedding to Ivar.

Kattegat was a frozen wonderland. Snow blanketed the streets and lined the roofs. The frozen sea, misted grey, stretched on for miles. Icicles dripped like fingers from every overhanging spot, and the sky was pure white. Nobody went out much in the dead of winter. On your wedding day, the city was serene and peaceful. Everyone waited in the Great Hall for you.

You were an ice queen in your outfit. Pale blue table weaving accented the white dress. Hundreds of beads embellished the warm, heavy wool. They glittered in the light, a special gift brought back for you from foreign places. They were from Ivar and so expensive that their only proper use was on your wedding dress. You would hand this impressive garment down to your daughters.

Silver jewellery sparkled from your neck, chest and wrists. Expensive diamonds from the orient, traded via the Silk Road, hung from your ears.

The hand maids lifted a heavy white polar bear fur around your shoulders. The pelt immediately warmed you. When you stepped outside to walk to the Great Hall, the blistering cold swept around you in an icy waves. But thoughts of Ivar kept you warm.

The short walk to the Great Hall was nerve wracking. Today — the days of your dreams —had been a long time coming. It wasn’t your fault. You’d have married Ivar in a heartbeat. But the war against the Saxons had taken him away to England from early spring to late autumn. And when he came back, he insisted the blacksmith made him the perfect crutch for your special day. It took months of tests and trials for Ivar to be happy with it. He would stand straight and tall on his wedding day, when he made you his queen. Only the very best workmanship would do.

The doors pulled open with a gasp as the wedding guests admired your beauty. Stepping inside, waves of whispers spread as people commented on your impressive dress. One woman stepped forward and said, ‘You will be a perfect queen for King Ivar. The pair of you are beautiful together!’

Your cheeks blushed as you moved forward, smiling at your admiring guests.

The crowd parted and you saw your soon-to-be husband. He stood tall. The new crutch, higher than the old one, allowed him to tower at his full height. His back straight and chest puffed out, wearing a brand new tunic. He cut an amazing figure. His hair was braided in a new way, with lots of little twists and tails hanging down his back.

Ivar’s plump lips pulled up into a warm smile that revealed his heart. You were here, and marrying you was his greatest achievement.

You stepped onto the dais and Ivar took your hand.

‘Y/N, are ready to make me the happiest and proudest man alive?’

Your heart melted as you glanced into his eyes. All the love and tenderness you shared reflected there. With you, he was never King Ivar the Boneless. Just Ivar. The man you loved, the man of your dreams. The man who would fight and die willingly to protect you.

‘Yes, Ivar. I will gladly marry you. But on one condition.’

An impish pinch to his eyes portrayed his amusement. ‘And what would that be, elska min?’

‘Tonight we close the doors of this hall and start our family.’

Ivar grinned and nodded in ascent. ‘Start the ceremony,’ Ivar said to the priestess. ‘This beautiful woman and I have many sons and daughters to make.’


	3. You're Forgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr request. After you and Ivar ignore one-another following an argument, Ivar has a nightmare about you leaving him.

The bed was cold and uncomfortable without Ivar.

For the past few nights, Ivar chose to sleep in the room next to your marital chamber. Good, it was his fault anyway. His stupid stubbornness had caused the argument in the first place.

You huffed and turned over, facing away from Ivar’s pillows. You didn’t want to smell his masculine musk wafting. Even though you were angry with him, it invaded your nose and riled your loins.

No, he would not do this. He would not make you think about him again. You had lost sleep for too many nights being angry at him. You’d lain awake through the dark hours, worrying if he was warm enough. Did the cold, small room next door exacerbate his pain? Is that why you heard him up pottering all hours?

He did it to annoy you. That’s what it was. He knew the noises of clanging ale horns and chinking trinkets would annoy you. It wasn’t because of his pain, it was because he was _being_ a pain.

Idiot. Selfish, stupid idiot, you thought.

Finally, the noises from the adjacent room died down. Impressed, you thought you’d out-stubborned Ivar the Boneless. You closed your eyes, but sleep still would not come.

You missed him. That was the long and short of it. How long would the two of you go on like this? When would you let this petty argument end?

It would last until he apologised to you. He’d caused it. It would end whenever he wanted it to.

But what if Ivar didn’t want it to end? What if this was the beginning of the end of your marriage? What if Ivar decided to walk away and never come back?

Your chest heaved and your palms grew slick as you realised this was your biggest fear — living without Ivar.

That’s it, I might as well get up. I’m not going to sleep. Stupid Ivar, he’s won again, you thought.

You threw back the covers and stormed across the room.

_Time to give him a taste of his own medicine_.

You picked up horn ale cups and wooden ale jugs, clanged them together and banged them down. You picked up your stool and thumped it off the floorboards. And just to be sure you woke him and he got the message, you slammed the table into the wall.

You sat, arms crossed, waiting to hear the tell-tale signs of Ivar’s awakening. But not a single noise came from the other side of the wall.

With a huff, you poured yourself some ale. Perhaps it was good a thing you hadn’t woken Ivar. Without proper sleep he scowled his way around the place like a bear coming out of hibernation.

As the long hours of the night stretched out before you, your mind wandered. Thoughts took you miles away from your bed chamber. Until a loud yowl from the adjacent room snapped you back to reality.

It was Ivar, and it sounded like he was in pain.

You dropped your ale cup, splashing the amber liquid down your nightdress as you raced next door. You expected to see Ivar fallen from bed, leg clutched against the agony of broken bones. But instead you found him sleeping.

Watching him, you saw him toss and turn, sweat beading his brow and sheets clutched in his fist. Ivar was having a nightmare.

How strange! You never imagined Ivar, so bold and cocksure, would shiver beneath the blankets in terror.

Your heart melted and your stomach lurched. You didn't want to see him suffer. You crossed the room and laid a soft hand on his shoulder. Ivar let out a soft whimper and mewed your name. His slick skin felt hot beneath your hand. His body tremored; his face creased in fear.

‘Ivar, wake up, my love.’ You shook his shoulder, afraid of waking him too harshly in case he lashed out. But he didn’t. Ivar came too slowly, as if you’d dragged him from the depths of Hel back into Midgard. His eyes opened and he blinked away his terrors.

‘Y/N?’ His voice was strange, distant and mouse-like. ‘Y/N, what are you doing here?’

‘I heard you from next door,’ you said, voice thick with concern. ‘You sounded like you were in pain. I thought something terrible had happened.’

‘I did,’ Ivar said. Rolling on to his back, his arms circled your waist, holding you fast to the bed. ‘I dreamt you left me while I was sleeping. You packed all your things and disappeared into the night. When I woke up in the dream, I went to your room and you were gone.’

‘Oh, Ivar, I would never.’

‘Do you know the worst thing?’ he asked. ‘In the dream, I knew that I deserved it, that is was my fault.’

‘Move over.’ When Ivar shifted across in the small bed, you slipped in next to him and pulled him into your arms. He rested his head on your chest. Your fingers instinctively wound into the thick braids as you held him to your heart.

‘I was afraid, as well,’ you admitted, kissing the top of his head. ‘I was afraid you would never come back to me. That you would leave and our marriage would end.’

‘No, elska min. I could never leave you. I am an idiot and I’m sorry. I should never have caused this to happen, and I shouldn’t have carried it on for so long. I am a stubborn man, like my father.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ you said, kissing him again.

‘And so are you.’

‘What for?’

‘For not coming to kiss me sooner.’


End file.
